Chapter 40
The Forge trial took place in the smithy building. Audra made the choice to miss it, taking that time to hide in her room and study for her own trials, which were scheduled for that afternoon and evening.
When it was time for initiates to return to the amphitheater, she arrived early, pacing by the main entrance, waiting for Callum, Wilder, and Cersha to return with news of Forge’s rankings. Though as she watched them get closer, she could tell from Callum’s body language that he was furious.
“Oh Mist, what happened?” she asked him.
She expected Callum to explode, but it was mild-tempered Cersha, her hands clenched into fists, her face red with anger, who shouted, “He fucking did it again! The cheater. And they just allowed it to happen, giving him first place, even though Callum should have won! He made the most beautiful sword; you should’ve seen it, Audra.
They gave all the initiates these blunted, dull things, covered in rust and grime and who knows what, just broken pieces of iron!
Yes, pieces. We all assumed it would be maybe broken in half, but Callum didn’t even balk when he saw it.
He just set to work. And by the end of it, he presented the judges with the most stunning sword I’ve ever seen.
The pommel alone belongs in a museum, but guess who won? ”
Audra had a feeling who it would be, but before she could even voice the arrogant bastard’s name aloud, Cersha exclaimed, “That dung heap noble, Noel! And he didn’t even LIGHT HIS FORGE or anything, he just used incras to meld the pieces together, to sharpen the blade, and then—I don’t even know how he did it, but he changed the fucking IRON TO GOLD.
Who would use a golden weapon? The metal is too heavy, too pliable; it would dull after the first battle! ”
“Why would he even enter that trial? We are only required to enter two—and he already won Echinacea’s,” Audra said.
“Because he’s determined to be the top initiate, and if that means ruining anyone else’s chances, so be it. The asshole,” replied Wilder.
“Winning all four trials will definitely increase his standing. It would guarantee him as the top graduate,” said Callum, the calmness in his voice all the more terrifying for how angry he was.
Audra groaned.
“He’s despicable. Taking extra wins for himself and cheating to do it!” Cersha said, continuing with her tirade as they passed beneath the stone arches and into the amphitheater.
The biting wind whipped snowflakes into a frenzy, creating a swirling mass of white that obscured the stands.
Audra looked around at her fellow initiates.
Their breath plumed in the frigid air, as they stamped their feet for warmth outside the circular rope of their allotted sparring ring.
How many of them wished they had their own gods to pray to right now?
How many, like her, wished that they possessed enough ruthlessness and cunning to advance to the next round?
Commander Renwick surveyed the competitors. “Initiates, step into your sparring circles,” she barked, her voice barely audible over the wind’s determined howling through the eaves of the amphitheater.
Audra, heart pounding, stepped over a chalk drawing barely visible in the dirt and snow, and into the ring, numb hands clutching a wooden staff, her weapon of choice because, if wielded correctly, she hoped it would keep her far away from her randomly assigned opponent.
Which happened to be Nepthys, one of the best fighters in all Arcane.
Nepthys, to his credit, hadn’t smiled or blustered when Audra’s name had been called with his. In fact, right now, he looked slightly ill. Why was he worried when he’d seen Audra during combat lessons? He knew that she was one of the weakest in their guild.
He should be overjoyed right now, knowing he wasn’t paired with an initiate in Sabre Guild.
Then again, he might be paired with one in subsequent rounds.
Maybe he was nervous about what came next—when he inevitably triumphed over Audra and had to move on.
This, she understood. There was a sort of freedom knowing that she wouldn’t have to fight in any more rounds, and a comfort in knowing that Nepthys at least wasn’t cruel.
She wished she could say the same for others. Audra rolled her eyes when she saw Noel step into his own ring. He really was going four for four.
The aggravating noble began to stretch, ignoring Kiera, a tall muscled girl from Sabre, who offered her outstretched hand. She awkwardly pulled her hand back in without a handshake.
But … Audra almost smiled. Kiera was in the Sabre Guild. The odds of her beating Noel were actually quite high—Sabre trained five times as hard and more frequently than anyone in Arcane.
Noel was toast.
Audra’s head whipped back to her own opponent when Renwick screamed over the wind, “Victory by any means. Begin!”
Fuck.
The amphitheater exploded with sound. Initiates lost in the snow and mist, but the sounds of them stamping their feet and hollering support for their friends, loud enough to reach Audra. Competitors clashed, weapons swinging—the sounds of opponents crying out in rage or pain.
Nepthys, the moment he heard the signal, began to shift his weight from foot to foot. Nerves apparently forgotten, he trained his gaze on Audra. Audra raised her staff, preparing to block his first blow, but it didn’t come. The tall man circled her, his sword held low in front of him.
Was he waiting for her to make a move?
Audra was smaller, quicker, but she hadn’t sparred with him during lessons; she wasn’t sure if she should go low or high. She lunged for him, swinging her staff at his ankles. Anticipating her move, Nepthys leapt over her staff with ease, then twirled, suddenly behind her, and …
Audra scrabbled to hold on to the arm that held his sword, because, Mist take her, his blade was pressed to her throat.
Fuck, that was quick. Embarrassingly so.
“Concede, Audra,” he stated, “I would rather not have to hurt you.”
She grimaced ruefully. “I would rather you didn’t hurt me either.”
She tapped twice on his arm, the official signal for concession, and he lowered the sword immediately, stepping away from her.
“You’re fucking fast, Nepthys, I’ll give you that.” She rubbed at her throat; though Nepthys was a skilled warrior, he had not broken the skin. Still, the sensation lingered. She would like to go the rest of her life without feeling the edge of a blade on her neck.
Nepthys, for his part, was a gracious winner. He smiled sheepishly and said, “You have a tell. I noticed it last sparring lesson. You always purse your lips right before you lunge.”
Audra winced. “Good to know.” She should’ve done what Nepthys had and watched the others spar, checking for tells. But to be fair, she knew this was a lost cause and had put all her focus on preparing for Arcane Guild’s trial—the one trial she had even a slim chance of winning.
They both stepped out of their ring and watched the remaining initiates spar. Fists flew, boots slammed into ribs, swords and staffs made sickening contact with flesh and bones.
Callum, with his massive frame and tree trunk–sized arms, was a force to be reckoned with. He plowed through his opponent, someone from Sabre that Audra didn’t recognize, his weapon a battering ram.
Wilder moved with usual lethal grace, her strikes precise and devastating. She danced around her opponent, her wooden staff a blur of russet in the swirling snow.
Noel, the bastard, was skilled. Clearly trained since childhood, but not exceptionally so—his opponent was even more proficient, and she was fast. Kiera dodged a swing of his sword and swirled, changing up her tactic, wielding blow after blow.
Now, Noel was on the defensive and was barely managing to block her blows.
Finally, she faked him out and managed to connect the flat of her sword to his ribs.
Noel’s face contorted in pain and anger, and Audra watched as his free hand traced an incra in the air.
Suddenly, Keira stumbled, a look of shock on her face.
Noel advanced, taking advantage of her imbalance, and shoved her to the ground.
She didn’t have time to process what happened before the point of his sword was pointed at her throat.
With a groan of rage, she tapped twice on the ground.
Audra couldn’t believe it! He’d cheated!
Noel reached out a hand, offering to help Kiera to her feet, but she slapped it away, pissed that she’d lost because of his incra.
Audra glanced up at the judges on the raised, covered dais. Their eyes were sharp and unforgiving—they saw it all, and yet said nothing.
Victory was all that mattered; the means were irrelevant.
Wilder and Callum were victorious.
Both made victory laps around their respective sparring circles, grins on their faces, while their opponents nursed bruises on the sideline, looking dejected.
One by one, losing initiates tapped out, until eventually, the last pair had its winner, and the next round was set to begin.
Again, the students were randomly assigned, Renwick pulling names from a glass jar and calling them out. Wilder was paired with Lottie, who had won her first round. Audra wished she’d seen it.
Callum was paired with Nepthys.
Both were tall, both skilled. This was going to be interesting.
“Begin!” Renwick’s voice rang through the amphitheater. Audra shivered in the cold. She’d known she wasn’t going to last long; damn, she should’ve brought her thicker jacket and kept it on the sideline. Cersha could’ve held it for her.
This round lasted longer than the first; the competitors, having weeded out the weaker links, had to work harder for their victories.